


Sweet Restraint

by aionyu (Zolatte)



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blue Kryptonite, Dildos, Handcuffs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, bottom!kon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:19:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zolatte/pseuds/aionyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Meeya’s T/K meme prompt, “TimKon in an established relationship and Tim finds out about Blue Kryptonite and tracks it down so that he has some sexy bondage time with Kon. Rowr.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Restraint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meeya87](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Meeya87).



> I promised myself I wouldn’t write another fic on this blog after the last time. And then I did. Dammit Meeya. /sobs  
> [Tumblr Link](http://aionyu.tumblr.com/post/19363017286)

Conner doesn’t notice when his arms are guided above his head and pressed against the headboard. It’s when he hears the  _click_  and feels Tim’s humid breath lingering upon his lips instead of against them does he open his eyes to view the equally shirtless teen above him.  
  
He cocks an eyebrow and cranes his neck up to the area where Tim’s line of sight is fixated.  
  
“Handcuffs?” Conner questions, because while the idea is hot, he’s Superboy, he’s pretty sure Tim knows he’s  _Superboy_ , and he’s one hundred percent certain that one uncontrolled tug would tear the headboard to pieces.  
  
“Special handcuffs.” Tim replies, but there’s a smirk to his voice that Conner can’t place.  
  
The cuffs  _seem_  like the standard sex toy. It’s lined with soft red faux fur and feathers that tickle his wrists, and blue luminescent gems surround the keyholes on each base. But there’s something off and Conner focuses back on his boyfriend.  
  
Tim leans forward from straddling the clone’s waist and presses a soft kiss to his lips, pulls back a fraction and with a sinful tone, he whispers, “Do you trust me?”  
  
But he waits for no answer and Conner yelps when Tim pinches his nipple harshly, and there’s actual pain radiating outward over his pec before Tim dips down slowly to sooth the bruised bud with his tongue.  
  
“What was that?” His voice is bewildered.  
  
He smiles now, uncertain, but responds, “Blue kryptonite—are you familiar with it?” Conner’s eyes widen knowingly and he glances back at the cuffs, at the unearthly blue color of those minerals, and suddenly Tim seems a lot heavier than before. He’s tugging at them and trying to let his tactile telekinesis work the binds, but it’s of no avail. He’s powerless.  
  
“Conner, relax,” Tim orders gently. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. Just tell me and I’ll remove them.” Tim moves up and aligns his face with Conner’s own, cobalt softly looking into cerulean for confirmation.  
  
But. But it’s Tim, and Conner trusts Tim with his life, so he bends his head forward to meet the moistened pink of his lover’s lips and responds reassuringly, “Is there a safety word?” before closing the gap. Tim lets out a pleased sound and they’re making out again, teeth and tongue and the weight of Tim’s naked torso rubbing against his own.

While his hands are bound above his head, Tim’s are traveling all over, running up his triceps and back down and over his nipples, up and over the the tendons of his neck, and Conner is acutely aware of the fingernails scraping over his skin and tickling him. Tim bites at Conner’s lips, every nip causing him to make sharp inhales at the sensation.  
  
Tim pulls away from Conner’s bruised mouth and starts trailing over his jaw, his teeth lightly scraping over the surface before settling just above his collar bone. And then Tim is sucking, biting, licking that spot for a few sweet moments before following his way down the smooth expanse beneath him. Conner tilts his chin forward to watch his lover enthusiastically add spots of color to his torso, and a heavy moan escapes when Tim’s right hand starts rubbing him roughly through the denim.  
  
He feels the difference, and it’s  _so very different_. Before Conner developed powers that mirrored Superman, his tactile telekinesis was comparable to a second skin that absorbed all hits unless he willed it back. Then the development of superstrength had pretty much muted those soft, intimate touches, but now. Now he can  _feel_  it, feel the inflamed heat following the suction of Tim’s mouth, every nibble from his teeth and every scratch from his nails.  
  
The muscles of his abdomen jump abruptly when Tim bites hard at the skin below his belly button, and then Tim is glancing up at him with a  _very_  wicked expression as he pulls and discards Conner’s denim jeans and boxers.  
  
Conner’s breathing deepens when Tim loosely grips the other teen with his left hand, his thumb and index finger settling on the foreskin surrounding the head of his cock. He lets out a shaky breath as those magic fingers start moving, rolling the thin barrier over the sensitive glans in a massage that drives Conner crazy.  
  
God he needs to touch Tim. But those  _fucking_ —the chain rattles as it’s pulled against the headboard—those fucking handcuffs.  
  
It’s a losing fight, so Conner just shuts his eyes and  _feels_. Feels his precum lubricating the slide of Tim’s fingers sending shock waves up his spine, feels when Tim take a moment to grip the shaft and pump a few times before working the head again, and then Conner opens his eyes in surprise when he feels a slick finger caressing and pushing against his hole.  
  
“T-Tim..?” he manages to choke out when the digit breaches, because his field of vision now includes his lover, a bottle of lube, and an intimidating red dildo that blends into a black base. A part of Conner wonders whether the boy wonder bought the toy himself or whether it was a gag gift or something, but that thought gets pushed away when he follows the hand that previously fondled his dick move towards the red toy.  
  
Another finger advances inside and his breath hitches momentarily, but he’s fixated on the way Tim’s long fingers curl around the dildo before lifting to press it against the teen’s moistened lips. The tip of pink tongue coyly swipes over the top and Tim’s flushed face breaks out in a grin. “Yes, Conner?”  
  
He groans out loud—because  _that mouth_.  
  
A third finger makes it’s way in after a few minutes and Conner shuts his eyes and whimpers, pushes his head back against the pillow as he feels the trio of digits attempt to loosen him, in and out and in again. He supposes the dildo is resting on the bed again because Tim is rubbing his thigh in a comforting manner.  
  
And then he feels it. It’s small, that spark of velvet, but Tim must have noticed whatever slight change in Conner that even he is not aware of because the boy wonder starts stroking that sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers until Conner is gasping and breaking out in a heavy sweat. “F-fuck, Tim! Fuck, fuck!” he chants, and the fingers slip out of him to be replaced with the blunt tip of the toy, lubed and positioned at his entrance.  
  
Conner meets his lover’s eyes, and he rapidly shakes his head in consent and desperation at Tim’s breathy “Are you ready?”  
  
The dildo enters slow, and he breathes in deep and exhales to the speed of the intrusion. Tim’s left hand is resting adjacent to his cock again, while his right works the toy until it reaches the hilt. The teen pauses, letting Conner adjust to the sensation. The clone repeatedly contracts and relaxes around the dildo, adapting to it’s size, and after a couple of minutes he gives Tim the okay.  
  
Conner is being fucked by Tim with that fucking red dildo, and a long string of grunts, whimpers and moans follow from the both of them with each push and pull. If it wasn’t obvious before, it is now—the straining bulge pressing against the front of Tim’s pants. But Tim ignores it and instead angles forward to take Conner in his salivating mouth.  
  
And the sensation is just  _too much_  because Tim knows what he  _likes_ , that he loves it when that tongue slips between the foreskin and the glans until the barrier retracts at his hardest. And then Tim is moving down and up and pausing to undulate at the oh so sensitive flap of skin that connects his sheath with the head before ruthlessly teasing his leaking slit, and Tim repeats his routine while Conner rocks his hips, struggles against the cuffs and feels the fur-covered metal bite into his wrists because he needs to put his hands on Tim so fucking badly.  
  
He’s panting hard now—a buildup of explosions rocking from within at every brush of his prostate with the toy, the suction of Tim’s eager mouth on his length, the surely bruised muscles stinging around his wrists—and Tim presses hard against those receptive nerves with a long stroke that leaves Conner gasping and coming and  _coming_  because it’s all just too much.  
  
The room is silent now, save for the gulps of air he takes following his orgasm.

Conner’s arms relax over his head and his mind attempts to right itself from this state of bliss. Wet sounds are perceived when the fog clears, and the clone forces his eyes open to take in the sight of Tim licking up the seed that spilled from his mouth, and god was he always that sensitive down there because every lap from Tim’s tongue has him twitching. He groans when the dildo gets pulled out and watches as Tim removes his pants, his erection bobbing, and Tim travels back up his his body while that hard dick leaves a damp, insistent trail as it rubs against his torso.  
  
Conner tastes himself in Tim’s mouth while that cock brushes fervently on his abdomen. Despite how drained he feels, as soon as hears one click of a cuff being released he flips their position, looks down at his lover’s amused face and sloppily invades the inside of his mouth before shifting lower to blow Tim.  
  
Tim comes moments later and they’re both spent, Tim laying on his back staring up at the ceiling in awe and Conner right beside him.  
  
“That…” Conner starts as he peers at Tim, and he feels the burn of the muscles in his arms and the developing contusions on his wrists, surveys the kiss and bite marks littering the region of his chest and continues, “That was pretty fucking amazing.” And Tim gives him this  _look_  and they’re both snickering like the stupid pair of lovebirds they are.  
  
The two bask in the post coitus afterglow, orgasm still fresh in Conner’s mind, and he ponders how Tim’s tight ass would feel around his cock in this human state because there’s still one cuff of blue kryptonite attached to his wrist.   
  
Conner turns towards Tim, a hungry look painting his features. “Ready for a second round?”   
  
Tim smiles.


End file.
